Lost Hours

by Lorena Franco

  “I feel relieved by your answer.”

  “Why?” he asked distractedly.

  “Because I´d liked there to be something between us.”

  “Direct. I like that.”

  “Why fool around Matthew?”

  Two hours later we were making love in his apartment. I had to watch myself from talking about Josh while Matthew penetrated me sweetly.

  There was such a wonderful rapport from the start that rather than it being the first time, it seemed we had been lovers for a lifetime. At first, Matthew was gentle and slow and I missed Josh´s savagery in bed, his passionate kisses and the way he bit my nipples, always taking me to the verge of madness. I had to get used to this new love-making: respectful, with utmost care and sweetness. I´d get used to it over time.

  Time, the cruel enemy which, at certain points in our lives, is also our best friend, when what we want most in life, is to forget that which hurts us deep down in our soul.

  Thanks to time and Matthew, my feelings for Josh waned and I was able to pull my life together.

  PAULA

  Saturday, October 12 2013

  As I leave Paul´s apartment, I find myself feeling guilty, which is unusual. I like to flirt. I like sex, I accept that. It´s the first time I´ve been unfaithful to Matthew; but he has been unfaithful too. I feel enraged just thinking about him in bed with Joana. Who else could he be with?

  But Paul is the detective in charge of the murder case, and I realize that it might not have been a good idea to get drunk and have sex with him.

  From the look on his face, it seems he couldn´t remember a thing… what a shame, considering it´s been one of the best lays in my life. My God! I can´t believe I´m thinking this way.

  I open the door to my apartment, scrutinizing every corner, just in case Matthew has been here. There is no trace. Not even a note or message in the answering machine. Once again, I sniff the air, the scent is too familiar. As if a woman wearing a different perfume from the one I use had been there.

  I run to the closet in the bedroom to check if Matthew has been by to pick up some things. Everything is just as I left it. Everything is just as he left it before taking off. Where the hell is he?

  I call his cell phone, but it´s either out of range or turned off.

  I need to see him. I want to hug him and have things go back to what they were. I cry until my tears run out and look at the clock. It´s noon and there is a voice message on my cell phone.

  «Hey sweetie, how are you? Do you know anything about Matthew? We know he´s really busy and hates talking on the phone, but it´s been over a month since he gave any signs of life. I look forward to you call, honey. Big kiss! »

  It´s Matthew´s mom and I totally break down when I hear her voice. She knows her son doesn´t like to talk on the phone, that´s why she usually communicates via e-mail. Quick, comfortable and efficient; those were Matthew´s words.

  I don´t feel I have the strength to talk to her. I didn´t know it had been a whole month since Matthew hadn´t been in touch with his parents. I begin to worry. Could something have happened to him? What if he had serious trouble he didn´t want to share with me

  PAUL

  Saturday, October 12, 2013

  Though I have the day off, I decide to call the precinct.

  In my mind, my obsession with Paula is pervasive, I can still feel her body on mine. I can´t get her out my head. I long to be back inside her - no alcohol this time - and remember it.

  Only a week ago I was happy with Ana, or at least that´s what I thought.

  It´s an unusual Saturday, I´ve decided to do some work and my head is filled with another woman, not the whore I´ve spent the last few years of my life with.

  So, it turns out, things can turn on a dime, and in just a matter of seconds life can change drastically and turn into something we couldn´t have imagined a week before.

  “How´s it going boss?” Stuart asks.

  “Do we have anything?”

  “No.”

  “Now that´s strange.” I reply somewhat ironically, knowing it´s right over Stuart´s head. He seems distracted, his mind, like mine, on other things.

  “Coffee?”

  “Yes.” I reply as I enter my office. Five minutes later, Stuart takes a seat in front of me.

  “I´ve been rolling things over in my head, you know?” He says, squinting, rearranging his glasses on his nose., “I´m almost convinced that Parker´s killer had to be a coworker.”

  “I´ve been investigating very thoroughly, Stuart. I went over all the testimony statements with a fine-toothed comb. I went to the funeral and I didn´t see anything unusual. I don´t think the murderer works at DIC.”

  “I´ve found something that it seems you are not aware of.”

  “Surprise me.” I try to force smile on my face and take a sip of coffee.

  “It turns out Josh was the father of his boss´ daughter, Samantha Hemsley.”

  “So?”

  I am surprised, but I can´t let Stuart see that. Why the hell didn´t I discover that?

  “Samantha´s daughter turned up dead in an alley, close to her apartment on the Upper East Side, two days after she had disappeared. It was in September of 2004. She was five.

  “That´s horrible,” I feel sickened, “did they find out who did it?”

  “Nothing.”

  “And now Josh Parker turns up dead at the agency…”

  I try to think clearly, to find a spark of light in the darkness, but my mind is a complete blur. There´s some kind of wall there. I feel useless as a cop, and for the first time in his freaking career, Stuart is way ahead of me.

  “What do you think? Do you think Parker was involved in his daughter´s death? Maybe he was upset when he found she was his daughter.

  “Why do you suppose he didn´t know about her from the start, Stuart?”

  “Intuition, boss. Why don´t you ask your girl? She might know something.”

  “My girl?”

  “Yeah, Paula Hawkins. She´s hot, isn´t she? That´s one piece of…”

  “Get out!” I interrupt, furious, “Get the hell out of my office, right now.”

  I look over the papers that asshole Stuart has left on my desk. The case for the murder of Samantha Hemsley’s daughter, nine years back, is being opened again.

  Her name was Meredith Hemsley. It seems the director of the DIC agency never chose to use the paternal name for the child. The strangest thing of all is that when she was questioned, she didn´t mention Parker was the father of the child. Why would she keep such valuable information from me? Could it be that no one knows?

  The child´s body didn´t show any signs of violence. She died from swallowing a massive number of pills. She was found on the fifth of September back in 2004. She had been missing for two days. Apparently, the nanny lost sight of her for a second as the child played on the swings in the park, and never saw her again.

  Was Parker responsible for the crime? And if so, did she decide to take revenge nine years later? It doesn´t make sense, but it could be. Yet, no matter how strongly built Samantha is, I doubt she could have broken that partition. It´s even more unlikely that she could have cut a guy built like Josh Parker.

  I decide I can´t wait until Monday to go to the agency to see Samantha. I get in my car and, ignoring Stuart, drive to her apartment. She lives in a luxury apartment building in front of Central Park. As I look around, a chill runs down my spine; it´s the same building where a whole family, including innocent children, were found dead some time back.

  “Police.” I say to the doorman flashing my badge.

  “Where are you going?” He asks courteously, walking with me to the elevator.

  “Eighth floor.”

  “Samantha Hemsley?”

  “That´s right.”

  “You´re not here to stir up the past, are you? The poor woman´s been upset for days.”

  I turn to him, trying to make him see it´s none of his business wh
ether I´m here to stir things up or not. But I smile at him, unable to shake him as I enter the elevator.

  Samantha takes only a few seconds to answer the door. She is wearing an ivory silk caftan. Her black hair is tied haphazardly in a ponytail. Her blue eyes give witness to the fact that she´s been crying all night. I wonder what Parker might have seen in her. Maybe years ago she was an attractive woman. Or maybe I have underestimated Parker and he was the kind of guy who could see beyond a sexy curvaceous body and he was attracted to other things.

  “What do you want?” She asks gruffly.

  She stinks of tobacco and booze. There´s no hint of the elegant, majestic, powerful woman she portrays as director of a prestigious agency.

  “I´m here to ask you some questions, Ms. Hemsley.”

  She sighs and with a subtle gesture, dismisses the doorman. She is used to that, to people following her orders with just a look or a gesture. This is one intimidating woman, yet broken by pain. Broken inside.

  She leads me to a spacious well-lighted hall. With an elegant wave of her hand, she invites me to move into the living room and sit on an extremely expensive leather couch.

  I look at the decoration pretending not to be interested. Each item of furniture must have cost an arm and a leg, including many of the paintings which could have easily hung at any top line museum. There is art in every corner, but also petulance. I feel uncomfortable and want to be out of there as soon as possible.

  “Whisky?”

  “No thanks, I´ll pass.”

  I think I´ll stay off the booze for a couple of days.

  “Why didn´t you tell me Mr. Parker was your child´s father”

  She turns pale as a ghost and drops disgruntled into a sofa across from me. She takes a glass of Whisky, which she´d apparently been drinking before I arrived, and starts crying. She is disconsolate, and I, accustomed to looking under every stone, suspect it could also be a feeling of remorse.

  “Mrs. Hemsley, I have to…”

  “Don´t you dare call me Mrs., you conceited bastard! Get out of my house! Now!” She shouts, distraught.

  “Samantha,” I try to calm her down, “I know it must have been terrible… I know you had to…”

  “Do you have children?” She asks out of the blue, interrupting my questions. I shake my head. “Then you couldn´t have a fucking idea. Get out of my house, you have no right to be here.”

  “I will see you on Monday.”

  It sounded somewhat like a threat, I know. I look into her frightened eyes, the tremor in her lips and her shaking hands as she holds her glass of whisky. I can almost hear her thoughts, and they are about Josh, calling to him.

  PAULA

  Saturday, October 12, 2013

  I´ve been thinking about Matthew all day. I called his cell phone a thousand times but it´s still off or out of range. I even tried calling all the numbers Joana´s had over the years, but every time a different person answered… Joana an her bohemian life, her damned betrayal.

  At eleven forty two in the evening, I leave the house, I need to get out, get drunk, whatever. No friends, no husband and a murdered ex-lover, and a new lover handling the case. I feel wretched.

  When I stop by the joint where I got drunk with Paul, Jimmy´s, and wonder if I should go in or not, I have to pause to make sure that what I´m seeing is actually true.

  Joana is walking towards me with her characteristic happy swag.

  “I knew I´d find you here!” She exclaims throwing her arms around me. I don´t answer her hug. No, no, I won´t do it, she´s my husband´s lover. How could I hug her? How could she be so twisted?

  “Joana,” I greet her coldly, “do you know anything about Matthew?”

  “What? He´s not at home?”

  “Don´t play the fool with me, you´re not going to jerk me around. Where is he?

  “Paula, I swear I don´t know. Don´t speak to me like that, I haven´t got the foggiest of what you´re talking about.”

  “On Tuesday, when we got drunk, you were coming from my house, weren´t you? You´d just screwed my husband, right?”

  Lowering her gaze, she sighs and then looks into my eyes.

  “Paula… it´s not what you think.”

  “Isn´t it? Well then tell me, what is it I believe?”

  “Yes, I was coming from your house, but I didn´t screw around with your husband, I was looking for you but no one was home.”

  “Matthew wasn´t there?” I shove her back, furious, frustrated.

  “Paula, the other night I didn´t…” She puts up her hands to protect herself.

  “Not the other night? Then which night”

  She looks one way and then another.

  “Yes!” She exclaims nervously. “When I got back to New York I went to see you, but you weren´t home. It was two weeks before we met. I waited for two hours but you were working late and…”

  “Did you fuck with him?” I ask enraged. “Couldn´t you have waited like any normal person?

  “It was just a kiss!”

  “Just a kiss? Why?”

  “I don´t know Paula! Just because. Because we felt like it, for old times’ sake.”

  “For old times’ sake?”

  I am paralyzed. People are turning to look at us, and the bouncer at Jimmy´s has had his entertainment for the night.

  Paula, didn´t you know that Matthew and I were together before you two…”

  “No, I didn´t know. He never told me. As a matter of fact, he denied it. He always denied it and you never told me anything either.” I whisper, still furious, wanting to slap her head off, but that´s not my style.

  I feel like an idiot. An idiot who´s been lied to for nine years by her husband and her best friend.

  “Honestly, it was just a kiss. And I don´t know where Matthew is, I haven´t seen him since that day. That would be two weeks ago.” She blurts out. She´s afraid of me, she knows I´d like to see her dead body just now. I want to believe her. I want to believe her story.

  “I hope you are telling the truth.” I say, trying to calm myself down, “Now, get the fuck out of here” I mumble as if I was sparing her life.

  “If you find out anything about Matthew, please let me know. You´ve really worried me.”

  “You´d be the last person I would tell how this all turns out.”

  “I´m sorry Paula, you don´t know how sorry I am.”

  I watch as she walks away, turns a corner and her silhouette vanishes into the night shadows. I feel rage and impotence. I fear that she is lying to me and that she knows where Matthew is and won´t tell me. I´m afraid the slutty bitch might be laughing at me.

  The bouncer at Jimmy´s is staring at me, hoping to continue enjoying the much welcomed respite from a boring night. He´s probably asking himself «What´ll the next move be? »

  “What the crap are you looking at?” I ask with contempt. He just smirks, not deigning to answer me. “What are you looking at?” I insist raising my voice.

  He laughs at me, and a fury I´d never known before takes over. I charge him, meaning to scratch his filthy eyes out of his mongrel face. Suddenly, before I can reach him, a pair of strong arms enfold me, leading me away from the disgruntled bouncer who is still laughing.

  “Easy Paula, easy…”

  I know that voice. It brings me comfort. He hugs me and the ape stops laughing.

  “Paul.” I manage to blurt through my constricted throat.

  The fury subsides, giving way to pain, tears and a feeling of despair.

  CHAPTER 8

  PAUL

  Sunday, October 13, 2013

  Paula hugs me hard, she needs my warmth, my embrace. I still can´t understand how it´s happened. When did we begin to need each other so? At which point did I fall in love with this woman? I hardly know her, I hardly know anything about her, and yet, I feel a lot better than I ever felt with Ana, or any other woman for that matter. I look at her, and I want to be alive. For the first time in a long time, days don´t
seem so gray. For the first time, after so long, there is color in my life.

  What I witnessed has both surprised me and stunned me. Seeing that apparently fragile, thin body, charging furiously against the massive frame of the bouncer at Jimmy´s. it left me completely floored. I run towards her, trying to keep her away from the guy, though it´s unlikely she could have done much damage to a guy like that.

  “She´s crazy, man! This woman´s unhinged.” Says the bouncer, shaking his head.

  “Go to hell.” I tell him trying to pull Paula away from the place.

  She is shaking and her voice is barely a whisper.

  “Do you want to take a walk?” I suggest.

  “I´d rather we go to your apartment, if you don´t mind…” she mumbles in a barely audible whisper.

  Nodding my head and with my arm around her waist, I walk her towards my apartment.

  A few weeks back, I was asleep placidly in my bed beside my wife. Now I am leading this woman, a stranger to whom I´ve already made love while drunk, yearning to bed her again. Yet what I really want is to comfort her and let her know that she can count on me.

  Is it alright if I sit on the sofa?” She asks timidly. She is still shaking, but her tears have dried out.

  “Sure, make yourself at home. Can I offer you a cup of hot cocoa?”

  “Do you have whisky? I need something hefty.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  I pour her a stiff drink and she downs it in one gulp.

  “You´re not having any? She asks with a dopey smile.

  “No, not today…”

  “This time you do want to remember what happens?”

  “I`d like that, yeah.” Now I´m the one with the dopey smile. “What happened to you back there Paula?”

  She shakes her head in denial, she doesn´t want to talk about it, and to avoid it, she puts her hand on the back of my neck and pulls me down towards her, kissing me fiercely, passionately, somewhat desperate.

  “Paula. Are you OK? I don´t want to… not like this…?”

  “Like this? How like this?”

  “You´re shaking and crying. Tell me what´s going on. Is it about Josh?”

  I wonder whether it´s the right moment to tell her about Samantha, though I would like to know if she was aware of it.